And None Shall Be Left Alive
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: Did you know there are about 206 bones in the human body? I wonder how many of them I'll have to break until you cry and beg for mercy. :Culprit!Battler x Ronove, disturbing content, based on the TIP Forgery Number XXX:


**And None Shall Be Left Alive**

* * *

><p>The rain beat down relentlessly in the rose garden. It wasn't a true downpour. It was rather half-hearted. A more fitting description of it would probably be 'light drizzle'. Even so, it was more than enough to soak anyone to the bone. Not that there were any humans foolish enough to wonder around outside on such a miserable night, of course.<p>

The dim _pitter__-patter _of continuous rainfall beat on and on, just like a soft heartbeat inside the ribcage; threatening at any moment to gut out, but never quite happening.

The wind was cold. It howled ominously, just like the cry of a mournful child who couldn't find their way home. The wind disturbed the beautiful red roses, dripping with moisture; scattering their petals to the wind in a colorful swirl of crimson.

To further add to the dismal atmosphere, it was dark. Eerie shadows were coiled up in every corner of the rose garden, waiting to spring out and ambush foolish humans with sharp fangs and claws.

The only light offered upon the scene was that of the eerie spectre of the milky white moon. It hovered, a perfect circle, over the fantastical nightmarish rose garden- but its light was not enough. It couldn't penetrate into the areas most thickly steeped with pitch black shadow.

There could have been any number of creatures hiding in those shadows, giggling quietly… You couldn't disprove it.

Who could disprove demons?

The dangerously sharp railings round the roses glittered silver metal under the softest touch of the moon. If a clumsy person fell upon them they'd be pinned in place like a butterfly on a board; a large spike straight through the medulla oblongata.

Then they'd be drenched with rain.

Rain and blood.

_Drip, drip, drip._

What a pitiful way to die.

Then again, the island of Rokkenjima had seen worse deaths. That was one of the more merciful ones.

There was a violent typhoon raging around Rokkejima. It made the waves beat angrily against the shore. The sea moaned in protest as it was bashed against the rocks into white foam, until it sounded like some hideous monster was trying to dredge itself up from the deep.

It was the same terrible weather that, coupled with the freezing fingers of a lovesick young girl, had dismantled the torii shrine on the cliffs by the island the year before.

Wasn't that the mirror that quelled the angry demons and witches that surrounded the island that had once, aptly, been named Akujikishima? Without the mirror, could those with evil appetites return to walk amongst humans, as though they too had hearts?

Stranger things had happened.

There was nothing left to protect Rokkenjima. Once more, it had become a perfect closed circle; impenetrable by the outside world; impenetrable by common sense.

Throw away those laws that govern your normal life. What you will witness here certainly isn't normal, and will not pretend to masquerade as such.

Now the demons and witches, and swathes upon swathes of malevolently flickering golden butterflies, could take the fragile lives of the pitiful humans on that island and dash their brains out against the floor.

They would do this over and over and over again.

…

…No.

Forgive me, that's not quite right.

They _had _been doing it over again. But maybe they had grown tired of this rainy, gloomy game board; these dismal, pathetic human lives. The witches could have played there to their heart's content… but witches are fickle- and the girl who made that game board was not a true witch to begin with.

She was a young girl in love.

She already had her happy ending with him. The prince had rescued the princess and all was well. Evil had been thoroughly thwarted, and all was at an end. So… there was no need for this game to continue.

There was no need for October the 4th to keep looping.

And yet, it still was.

Why was that?

Maybe it was because the magazine articles, TV shows and radio programmes couldn't leave the cat box of Rokkenjima alone. Numerous theories sprouted up; small and unsupported at first, but as more people poured their belief into them these tiny saplings grew into tall trees.

The public would not let the Rokkenjima mystery die. So, even though witches no longer had any interest in the game board… it had not ended.

It would never end.

The general public were like vultures feasting upon this beautiful carcass; this murder mystery. Just like the witches had been intrigued by such an elaborate game board so, too, were the humans of the future the game board would never reach.

How did everybody die?

Nobody will never know- and that uncertainty, that mystery, only encourages more theories. The pieces on the stage of Rokkenjima continuously act out these theories forever and ever; now held firm by strings even tighter than Beatrice's.

They cannot escape.

They can never escape unless they are forgotten.

But… who does this game board belong to now?

It is difficult to say.

Well, if is difficult… then why don't we say it belongs to _him_?

A sudden burst of thunder split the air. It was impressive in its fearsome power, as though a white crack had spread right through the middle of the sky. The sound it made was akin to breaking glass.

The bolt of thunder, the sudden light, illuminated his pale skin, eerie smile, narrowed eyes.

Had he always been there, sat oh-so-composedly with his arms folded under the arbor?

…Who knows?

Like everything else on Rokkenjima, it's a mystery. Don't worry about it too much; you'll only get a headache.

It was raining outside, and it was cold, and it was miserable. No humans should have been out at such a time. The Ushiromiya family and their servants were all inside; the cousins playing cards in the guest house, the servants patrolling the corridors, the relatives trying to sleep in their beds.

So… … who was this man?

He was an Ushiromiya of sorts… but he had not truly been born to any of the adults in the mansion. His existence was a true miracle… and it had been brought to light because of all the theories from the future. The theories placed him as a cold-blooded killer who had orchestrated all the crimes- and now, given a physical form, he was finally able to act on these rumors properly.

Ushiromiya Battler had not interacted with the Ushiromiya family for six years.

Was it just a coincidence that this person calling themselves 'Battler' came to the family conference on the same day everyone, sans Eva, died?

There were whisperings 'Ushiromiya Battler' had not really been Battler at all, but an imposter who had stolen Battler's identity- stolen his skin- and acted as an innocent sheep, but was really a cold-blooded wolf who wanted to inherit the family name and gold for himself.

There was no proof of this happening… but there was nothing that could disprove it, either.

And so he had been born.

A new Battler.

A Battler who wasn't really Battler… but was a soulless killer with bright red eyes.

If the voices of the public wanted him to be a murderer, then he would gladly do it. He would stain his hands with blood; and he would do it again and again and again, savoring every last drop that fell to the floor. But, no- letting blood fall to the ground was a waste, surely. Blood was precious. Spilling it would be like pouring Romane Conti down the sink. So… he appreciated the value of life- and he wouldn't cut it out the veins with such disrespect.

He'd savor it on his tongue and teeth and lips.

To the gossiping magazines and TV shows, this 'culprit Battler' theory did not even present 'Battler' as a real human being.

He was just a monster.

And so… he had no compassion in his body.

He felt no remorse.

He felt no guilt.

He couldn't even experience real happiness.

He would kill and kill and kill again… because that was all he could do, and all he was good for.

It was what they _wanted_ him to do.

And he wasn't going to betray their expectations.

His name was 'Ushiromiya Battler'… one of the proposed culprits of the Rokkenjima Mass Murders.

* * *

><p>"Ihihi~ It took you long enough to get here. I've been waiting outside in the cold for half an hour," he said, blinking up at the newcomer through dark, half-lidded eyes. "Is that any way to greet a guest?"<p>

"Do forgive me," was the smooth reply, as the stranger dipped their head. "I was only recently made aware of your presence in this universe. It is puzzling, though, that…"

"That I should exist at all. I know. But… ihihi." Battler grinned, folding his arms. "You can't say shit like that to me about 'not existing', can you, demon butler?~"

"I suppose that is true," said Ronove, laughing softly, as he took a seat beside the one who called himself Battler. "Would you like some tea? I imagine we have much to discuss, and tea makes conversation more pleasant."

"Yeah, sure, sure. I've heard rumors about how good your tea is, so I guess I'm kind of curious, ihihi~"

"You're heard rumors already? I'm truly flattered, pu ku ku."

"Well, I do have all the memories of that other guy, you know. The one with the white suit who isn't _quite_ as brilliant as me, ihihi~ I think he liked your tea too, probably."

Battler smiled as he accepted his cup. When he took a sip, his eyes widened slightly, until those red irises- completely unlikely the other Battler's- seemed to eat up half of his face.

"Do you like it?"

"I've never had any tea before, that's all. I haven't been alive that long… so there are a lot of things I haven't experienced. It's all a lot of fun. I don't know what to do next- there are just sooo many possibilities, ihihihi…" An ugly grin split across his face. Slowly, very deliberately, he licked his lips. "I plan to have a _looot_ of fun as I educate myself about humans… Ihihihi… …"

"A truly… noble goal."

Battler smirked. "Why, _thank__ you_."

"So, please indulge me…"

Ronove paused for a few moments, wonder what to call this palette-swapped vision of Battler. Despite the identical face and similar laugh, a terrible rot had seeped inside of that rather attractive exterior, and his insides were surely pitch black. His bright red eyes spoke silently of that corruption.

He was nothing like the Ushiromiya Battler Ronove knew, and he was sure naming this imposter as such would be a great insult to the real Battler. However, Ronove didn't have anything else to call him- and, not wanting to be unprofessional, Ronove forced himself to keep talking.

Even so, he still stumbled slightly over that borrowed name.

"Please indulge me, Battler. What is the true nature of your existence? I'm curious."

"Eh?" Battler smirked. "Isn't that question a little too deep and philosophical for a 'friendly' tea party? You try and ask a human about the 'nature of their existence' and they'll go blank-eyed, and they won't understand what you mean at allll. They might even have an existential crisis and confuse themselves for a kumquat."

Ronove bowed his head. "I do apologize if that question gave our tea party a bitter edge. I could give you something sweet to take your mind off it, if you wish?"

Battler leant forwards slightly, that predatory look back on his face; eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a smirk that split across his face. Those red eyes were fixed intently on Ronove.

"Aaaah~ Not so soon. I think we'll get to the desert later. I have to savor it and draw it out, you see?~ Don't tempt me too early."

"… …Understood."

"Heh. Good, good." Battler grinned. "Well, let's see… Given I'm going to take so much from you later, I guess it's only fair you have one or two answers from me. About my existence… ihihi. I suppose you could say I'm… a theory in human flesh. The 'Ushiromiya Battler is the culprit' theory. It got pretty popular with some people. Well, not just 'some'; a lot. It even started to rival the 'Eva is the culprit' conspiracy; I guess because handsome, rebellious guys are more fashionable than old hags committing murder 'cause they didn't get enough hugs from their mean siblings, ihihihi~ So… thanks to all those people, I- a product of their illusions- was finally able to escape from their minds, and become more than just an idle thought or fantasy. Look, look- I'll prove it to you! Look, I'm more than just a delusion, riiiiight?"

Battler leant forwards, eyes far wider than he should have been. It felt like those bright red pupils were glowing in the darkness… almost as if to stare at them too long would inject some horrible sickness into the brain.

You could drown in eyes like those.

Soon, that vast expanse of red was all Ronove could see. When he blinked, he could still see the dark color staining the inside of his eyelids.

Battler invaded Ronove's personal space completely- and even though he was leaning across the table, their noses were now almost bumping. It seemed this Battler, alongside never tasting tea, also had no concept of social niceties. Even Ronove himself hadn't been quite that forwards with Battler when they first met, and he enjoyed teasing people.

This wasn't light-hearted teasing, though.

This felt… distinctly dangerous.

Ronove, despite his attempts to remain calm, could not help but be slightly disturbed by the extreme behaviour of this person who named themselves 'Ushiromiya Battler' so shamelessly. Though this did not show on his face, he moved back in his chair slightly.

As a demon, Ronove was very powerful… but he got the feeling this creature wearing Battler's skin, whoever they were, was a lot stronger.

That was proved to be a fact when Battler's fingers clamped firmly down on his wrist.

Ronove couldn't escape from that grip. It was just like an iron shackle. Battler looked like an ordinary human- but his strength was clearly not something an average person possessed.

"Look, look, looook~" Battler continued to gloat, eyes becoming wider still, until it looked like the eyeballs would roll right out of their sockets and roll onto the floor. His fingers applied yet more pressure to Ronove's captured wrist- and perhaps he didn't even realize how much strength he was using. "I'm not a fantasy or delusion, rii~iight? You can feel that, can't you? Doesn't it hurt? Doesn't it hurt?"

Ronove didn't rise to the taunting. He couldn't.

That would be allowing Battler to win.

"I-it is… certainly an impressive level of power."

Battler laughed.

"Ihihi~ It's cute, how you try to sidestep around repeating what I say- but I'm not like my pathetic counterpart, you seeee? I don't like playing word games; not even with demons! It's just not my forte! To tell the truth, I'm no good at holding conversations like this for too long- I find them boring! I told you to tell me if it hurts; I want you to tell me it hurts- I know it does, I know iiiiit?~ It hurts, riiight?~ Don't you want to repeat it? Too prideful to repeat it? Then I'll just have to shove my fingers into your mouth and drag the words out by force! I'm not contented with half-hearted answers! They. **Piss**. Me. Off."

Battler's grip grew tighter and tighter. His words fell from his mouth in an insane mess; organized as the pitter-patter of rainfall that drummed on the roof of the arbour.

He truly didn't realize just how tight his grip had become, because half-way through his laughter a… truly pleasant sound rang out through the arbour.

_Crack!_

It split through the sound of the rain so loud Battler felt half sure the cousins in the house must have heard it; although, of course, that was impossible.

But Battler heard it… and he was the one person who would have appreciated it the most. Just like savoring a fine wine, he took great enjoyment in hearing that beautiful cracking sound.

Broken bones.

A broken wrist.

"Oh deaaaar. How unfortunate. How on earth could that have happened? Ihihi~"

"Haa… aaa… …"

"Hey. Hey~" Battler leant closer still, until there wasn't an inch between the two men. "_That_ hurt, didn't it? I can tell by the look on your face. It suits you. I think I wanna see how many more faces like that you can make. Pain… and humiliation… and fear… … I want to see them all."

Ronove's breathing had become ragged at this time, and a wince rose to his face that he couldn't quite manage to suppress. This beautiful, captivating sight only made Battler's euphoria rise higher.

Oh, how much fun it was to do things like this to people- even if he hadn't really intended to break bones quite so early into their 'friendly' tea party. He'd have to take care to drag this out a little longer, or it'd be over too fast and he wouldn't get to play.

Then again… he did have sixteen other humans to play around with in the mansion just as much as he wanted. A whole sixteen carcasses! He really was just too lucky!

"Ahahaha~ I'll make sure to play with you a lot, okay? I'll break you down thoroughly- with everything I have. And then… I can go and find more and more interesting faces the others will pull; even more pitiful deaths, more beautiful corpses! The look on George's face when Shannon's head has been smashed in before his very eyes, insides on the outside and her body painted bright red… How will my dear Aunt Natsuhi cry over the corpse over her beloved husband! What will those servants say as their life flashes before their eyes? What about my darling father, who realizes his own son's a murderer just before the trigger's pulled and a bullet flies into his head, sending bits of skull everywhere… Aaaaah, it's so much fun I can hardly contain my excitement; but…"

Battler smiled a sultry, almost seductive smile, as he pressed his lips against Ronove's ear. Whispering softly, as though sharing a great secret, he said, "But I'll kill you first, okay? So… I'll treat you _special_~ Be grateful, okay?"

"Ahaha… aa…" Through his obvious pain, Ronove was still able to laugh softly; though it sounded broken, strangled. "How… H-how fortunate for me…"

"Yes, it is. I'll practice on you first, 'kay? I'll try out aaaaall the interesting methods of murder I've thought of right now… So you won't die once. You can die sixteen whole times- unless I get bored. I'm so kind, aren't I? I bet you're glad you came to see me first… Ihihihihi…"

Young, excitable children really were the worst kinds of sadists; pulling wings from flies, trampling on ants and poking the eyes out of the heads of their dolls. But the 'culprit Battler' had never had a childhood. He'd been born out of a theory that cared only for his psychotic personality- not his past, not his thoughts, not his feelings…

Just a desire to cause pain.

As said before… he really wasn't a human.

He was even worse than a demon.

Even demons could feel compassion towards their victims from time to time, just as Belphegor mercifully fulfilled Rudolf's last wishes in the third game, and Ronove gave Genji a peaceful death against Beatrice's wishes. Demons could still feel sympathy… and they did genuinely care for one another.

Despite their numerous claims, demons and furniture weren't truly devoid of emotion.

After all… they still had hearts that could feel.

That proved they were 'human'.

But 'Culprit Battler' was completely different. His heart had already been gouged out by spikes of blue truth proclaiming him to be a murderer. The sensationalist news coverage of the Rokkenjima Mass Murders had torn into his heart and pulled it out in a bloody mess- because it's easy to vilify somebody you've met before. Everybody treated Battler as a monster. It was only fitting that, in the end, Battler became a monster.

He couldn't stop himself.

He couldn't be stopped.

He could only kill.

Maybe that was why he was so much stronger than a demon. He had no sense of self-control… and murder was a new experience for him, just like drinking tea, just like feeling rain fall on his head, just like smelling the roses in the garden. It was all so much fun, and he wanted to keep having fun like this for eternity.

Battler had never experienced the joy of tearing flies apart before- but he was going to start his education now. Ronove could be his teacher.

"Aaah, I'm so~rrrrry for hurting you so sooon," Battler said, voice insincere and sugary sweet, as he gently linked his fingers with Ronove's. "I didn't mean to break your wrist so gracelessly. I guess I don't know my own strength, ihihihi. I know you must be disappointed too, being forced to surrender so very quickly… So I promise to drag everything out and make it nice and long and slooooow, okay? I bet demons like you get bored with being alive too- so I'm sure you'll appreciate it more than any human could."

A complex smile arose to Ronove's face- and he seemed torn between grimacing or laughing.

"How… considerate of you. I'm very grateful."

"Hm. I don't like your tone."

"I do apologize. Milady also says I have a rather impudent style of speech. However, it prevents her from being bored."

"Aaah, well, that's also true. People like you look like you'll be difficult to break down than pure girls like Shannon… Hahaha, so boring; she'll be so boring! I bet she'd cry if she got a paper cut! So… breaking all the delicate little bones in your body will be more fun."

"You want to break all of them? What a commendable effort. Now I truly feel special, pu ku ku."

"Yes, that's riiight. I try to do things thoroughly. Did you know there are around 206 bones in the human body? I wonder how many I have to shatter before I see tears beading up in your eyes, and you begin to beg for forgiveness. Ihihi… But there's no need to rush it. We do have aaaaaall night."

"I-I'm flattered somebody as attractive as you would be interested in spending the night with me."

Ronove laughed- but it was bitter Clearly, he already realized, no matter what he said, his fate was sealed. This situation was… quite hopeless.

"I'm much more powerful than you, you know," said Battler softly, as he slid the glove from Ronove's left hand. Gently, almost tenderly, he took one of Ronove's bare fingers between his own, and began to play with it. "Not many people believe in demons in this day and age, you know. You might be able to manifest yourself in situation like this on Rokkenjima, when the manner of murders will forever be unknown… That gives you a _little_ leeway to exist, and serve me tea..."

Battler's eyes narrowed.

His hand tightened suddenly round that single finger of Ronove's; the smallest one, last on his hand, and…

_Crack!_

Another loud, clear sound split through the air, just like a gunshot; audible over the continuous drizzle splattering against the red, red roses.

That sound was only to be expected.

Battler had just bent Ronove's finger back so forcefully it fell flat in a twisted, unnatural way against Ronove's hand, in entirely the wrong direction.

The look of pain that split across Ronove's face was delicious; far more tantalizing than the tea Ronove had served him. After this, Ronove would probably never be able to make tea again… but Battler didn't mind, because this was much more satisfying and delicious.

He wanted to take that look of pain and cherish it.

"But it still doesn't give you _**enough**_ leeway to exist!"

The second finger of the left hand, now, moving in to the thumb at the end; _crack!_It met the same fate.

"This murder might be a cat box, but people still don't accept the existence of demons and witches and magic in their daily lives, rii~iight? Nobody believes in that bullshit anymore! Nobody!"

The third finger; _crack_! It put up so little resistance it was getting boring now- but the gasp that escaped Ronove's lips was enough to make Battler himself moan, heart fluttering.

"But everybody believes in murderers. In fact, it's not even a question of 'belief'- it happens! Everybody knows it happens, and everybody accepts! I'm not hiding behind the illusion of a witch, or the illusion of fantasy! Everybody accepts me-"

The fourth finger; _crack_!

"H-haaa… aaah… …"

"-and everybody wants me to be the murderer! _Millions_ of people support my existence! And _**you**_…"

Battler smiled gently; leaving the thumb as an act of mercy, as his hand cupped Ronove's cheek. Ronove was beginning to look a little pale (who knew having so many bones broken in quick succession like that could even hurt a demon? That was barely a tenth of 206 yet, and already the results were promising), and he was trying to avoid looking at Battler- most likely due to shame, embarrassment… pain.

They were all wonderful emotions and Battler wanted to savor them all. He wouldn't let Ronove keep them to himself. All of his pain, all of his suffering; he would take it for himself.

"Nobody believes in demons, do they?" asked Battler, voice soft, almost comforting. "They're… imaginary friends. Just like Sakutaro. Only my lovely cousin Maria believed in him… so his power was only equal to one. That was how Aunt Rosa was able to tear him apart so easily. And that says nothing about that lonely, unwanted little girl, Ange, with her magical slut stake girl friends… Of course they couldn't kill anybody; they weren't even real!~ How sad, how sad. Ange must have been so miserable, so lonely; I wish I, her dar~ling big brother, could have been with her; I wish I could have shot her in the head myself, or shoved her face into a meat grinder; maybe left her insides to be clawed out by hungry alley cats?~ She was so pa~the~tic~~~ She'd be happier dead! Ihihihihi…"

Ronove's eyes widened slightly as Battler continued to insult the memories of his sister. Hadn't Battler loved her? Hadn't he almost broken down in tears because of her death?

Miss Gretel's body had been reduced to corned meat and bloody pulp because she loved her brother. She had sacrificed everything for Battler. Love was an emotion demons weren't familiar with… but Ronove understood honor and sacrifice, and he knew how dearly Battler had valued his sister.

To hear a being with Battler's face laughing at Ange's sacrifice was painful, even for a demon.

Perhaps that was even greater proof of this Battler's dark nature than Ronove's broken fingers.

"Those fools who buy into the magic theory to explain the Rokkenjima Mass Murders miii~iiight have multiplied your strength by about… one hundred? Two hundred? But… I'm sorry, but that theory's not very pop~u~lar~~ Yeah, characters like you are going out of style with the media. Nowadays, everybody's into handsome young heroes being villains in disguise. Your power multiplied by two hundred is no match for my one million. My very existence denies your magic. You might be a demon… but you're totally helpess~ But… don't worry. I'm nice, you see? You can even cry if you want… and maybe I'll go easy on you."

At these cooing, sugar-sweet words, Ronove winced slightly.

"I'm sorry, Battler, but I'll have to decline your request. I couldn't possibly cry. It would spoil my image, pu ku k-u-uuua… …"

But Ronove wasn't able to finish.

Battler's fingers, once so gentle, promising a swift and easy death, had fisted in Ronove's hair. There was none of the light-hearted teasing light that had once alighted in Battler's eyes. Instead, they were hard and cold.

But he was still smiling.

It was a smile that would never fade- even when his open mouth was being dragged down exposed flesh, teeth biting against skin and even devoring it, drawing it blood. No matter what hideous, depraved thing Battler did, that smile would never fade.

It would only grow wider and wider.

Battler would take his childish cruelty to its highest limits, and destroy even those. He would experiment around with life to its fullest extent, smiling all the time… and then he would laugh.

Because he was having fun.

At least, if he had a heart to feel… he might have been having fun.

Battler dragged the limp, weak, defenceless and delectably vulnerable form of Ronove forwards, smashing their mouths together; teeth clinking against each other, his tongue biting down on Ronove's until it felt he would tear it out. Battler smashed Ronove's body down against the table top and pinned him in place; eyes wide, ravenous, and his whole body trembling with excitement. His fingers closed round Ronove's broken ones, squeezing hard- and, just to complete the job he'd started (there was no sense in doing things half-heartedly), he bent his thumb back as well; revelling in the pained moan he was finally able to hear forcing itself from Ronove's stubborn lips.

But it wasn't enough.

It still wasn't enough.

"You won't scream for me? You won't cry? You won't beg? That's fine; it's fine! I like stubborn people more! Even the strongest break down after rea~lly strenuous torture, right? You just need to find the right method!"

Battler's words punctuated with bruising kisses- though they would probably stop when he tired of them. It was another new experience; another way to dominate people- and something else he really, really wanted to try out…

A heavy blush rose to Ronove's face- and now, for the first time, he actively tried to push Battler away. It was useless, of course.

It was so useless it was kind of sad…

And it was so sad Battler couldn't help but laugh.

"Is this iiiit? Is this the right method, have I found it?~" Battler asked, voice light and teasing, as he pressed more kisses against Ronove's mouth; biting his lower lip until it broke and blood trickled down his chin. "Ahaha, that wasn't very difficult- it wasn't at aaaaall! I didn't even get to break a full 206 bones- I hardly broke anything! There are 27 bones in each hand, you know… but that's hardly 10% of the bones in your whole body! But you're already a shivering wreck? If the fingers of one hand reduced you to this state… I guess maybe two or three more fingers- 6 or 9 bones- would let me see some tears? Aaaaah, it's useless- it's all useless! I'm disappointed! Just for that, I won't give you a quick death- I'll drag it out as much as I want! Let's see how many broken bones a demon can live with before they pass out from pain, shall we?"

Battler smiled with genuine curiosity… just like a small child. His fingers worked on undoing Ronove's belt, tearing away his clothes; and with those broken fingers, it wasn't like Ronove could resist. One million beat two hundred all the time, no matter how you looked at it… so it was a foregone conclusion Battler would certainly win.

It was inevitable that Battler would win.

Rokkenjima was sealed away by the typhoon, and nobody would be able to escape. Not even demons. Not even witches.

Nobody.

When the seagulls cried… certainly, nobody would be left alive.

Not this time.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Teehee.  
>This is essentially a rewrite of the TIP Forgery Number XXX that features Culprit Battler (or B-Battler, as per <em>Ougon <em>_Musou __Kyoku __Cross_), but with more blatant Battler/Ronove disturbing undertones XDD But the original TIP was pretty fanservicey between those two anyway XD I swear, just read it XD I can't be only one thinking it's totally shipping those two, right? o: If the OMKC ending w/ Ronove & B-Battler doesn't have some kind of fanservicey disturbing ending between those them I'll be very disappoint XD

Uuugu, I'm not really sure how good this is, tbh. I've wanted to write this for a while, but... I dunno. -shrug- I feel it's too narmy to actually be disturbing.  
>Then again, Umineko is a kinda narmy series XD<p>

**~renahhchen**** xoxoxo**


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